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Harold stepped forward.
“Enough.”
He pointed down the driveway.
“You need to go.”
Mara looked toward the road.
Rainwater was running down the gravel.
There was nowhere to go.
No family nearby.
No money.
No car.
Her husband was gone.
Her youngest child was sick.
And five other children were looking at her, waiting for her to tell them everything would be okay.
She swallowed the panic rising in her throat.
“Give us one night.”
Harold shook his head.
“No.”
“Lily has a fever.”
“Not my problem.”
“She needs somewhere warm.”
“Then find somewhere warm.”
Mara stared at him.
“Harold, please.”
His expression hardened.
“You should have thought about that before.”
“Before what?”
“Before depending on my son.”
The words hit harder than the rain.
Mara slowly lowered her eyes.
Then she heard a suitcase scrape across the porch.
Harold had grabbed one of them.
He dragged it toward the stairs.
“Wait!”
He shoved it down.
The suitcase bounced off one step.
Then another.
Finally, it landed in the mud.
The zipper broke.
Clothes spilled into the rain.
Grace gasped.
“That’s mine!”
She ran toward it.
Mara stopped her.
“No.”
“But Mom—”
“Stay with me.”
Harold folded his arms.
“That is everything you need.”
Mara stared at the soaked clothes.
“Everything?”
He shrugged.
“You should be grateful we allowed you to pack anything.”
Noah stepped forward.
“My dad bought those things.”
Harold turned toward him.
“Your father isn’t here.”
Noah clenched his fists.
“You can’t just throw us out!”
Harold crossed the distance between them.
Before Mara could react, he grabbed Noah by the arm and shoved him backward.
Noah slipped.
Mara caught him.
The boy’s cheek struck the edge of the stone railing.
He winced.
Mara’s heart stopped.
She looked at his cheek.
A red mark was already forming.
Then she looked at Harold.
Her voice was quiet.
“Don’t touch my son again.”
Harold laughed.
“Or what?”
Mara didn’t answer.
She simply stared at him.
For the first time that afternoon, something in her expression made Harold uncomfortable.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something stronger.
Resolve.
Mara bent down and picked up the suitcase.
She began gathering the children’s clothes from the mud.
Noah helped her.
The younger children followed.
Then Mara stood.
“Children.”
They all looked at her.
“We’re leaving.”
“But where?” Emma whispered.
Mara forced a smile.
“Somewhere safe.”
Harold smirked.
“Good.”
Mara turned away.
One by one, her children followed.
As they walked down the driveway, Mara could feel people watching.
Curtains moved in neighboring houses.
A woman stood behind a window.
A man stepped onto his porch.
Nobody came outside.
Nobody helped.
Nobody stopped Harold.
And Mara realized something.
Harold wanted witnesses.
He wanted the neighborhood to see her leaving.
He wanted everyone to believe she had been nothing more than a dependent widow who had finally been removed from the Vance estate.
At the iron gates, Mara stopped.
She looked back.
Harold stood beneath the portico.
Celeste was already on her phone.
They looked victorious.
Mara stared at the mansion.
Then she remembered Richard.
